Farandoul was able to reproach Phileas, not only for the abduction of Rising Moon but the abortion of his own project and the loss of his hopes. The objective of the expedition could not now be attained, for the Patagonians, probably on the insistence of their beautiful captives, absolutely refused to let him continue on his way towards the diamond-fields. A bloody fight was about to break out between Farandoul and Phileas, but Bixby’s intervention reminded them of their dignity as gentleman, which must not be compromised in front of the savages. This speech calmed Phileas down. They agreed to devote a few days to investigations, and then to return to civilized regions to search for a more convenient place for a no-holds-barred duel between the two enemies.
“It’s not just any old duel that we require,” cried Farandoul, by way of conclusion. “Two men like us can’t fight like mere swashbucklers. It’s a grandiose contest, a solemn conflict, a frightful and merciless embrace, a wild explosion that will shake the world and set fire to an entire continent! This is what I propose: the states of Nicaragua are at war; the north and the south, full of rage, are precipitating their regiments and artillery upon one another—very well, let’s place ourselves at their head, make war, commence the carnage, and fight to the very last drop of Nicaraguan blood!”
“To the last drop of Nicaraguan blood!”
Farandoul wanted to let Phileas have the choice of weapons—which is to say, whether to take the northern side or the southern, but Phileas, always formal, immediately demanded to draw straws. The lottery gave the south to Phileas Fogg; the northern states fell to Farandoul.
The search began immediately, with the aid of the Patagonian chiefs. The Patagonian warriors and the new female Patagonians were summoned for inspection again. Farandoul, Phileas and Mandibul, the three unfortunate spouses of Rising Moon, Aouda and Halpa-Talca, passed from row to row without finding any of the three missing women. Phileas directed severe glances at the 347 ingrates for whom he had braved so many perils, but they, full of the joy of possessing kilograms of diamonds, did not appear to notice them.
The three spouses rode back and forth over the surrounding plains, in vain; they beat all the bushes of the neighboring forests, in vain. No trace of the unfortunates was discovered.
Mandibul philosophically renounced any hope of recovering Halpa-Talca. As for Phileas, his unhappiness was so vast, his losses so considerable, that one lady more or less—348 or 347—made no great difference to his desolate spirit. When Farandoul, finally abandoning his search, asked him whether the moment might have come to leave for Nicaragua, he replied that he was ready. They and the Patagonians went their separate ways that very day.
Since that time, the most contradictory rumors have circulated regarding the fate of Passepartout. Travelers have sworn that they have talked to a Patagonian who had eaten him, others have claimed that Passepartout, carried off by the Patagonians, had become one of the most powerful chiefs of their nations. This is the truth: Passepartout had not perished in the lake; he had betrayed his master’s confidence. Passepartout was a deserter!
You will recall that one of the lodges of Beavertown, isolated behind the main lines, had been reserved for crippled and impotent beavers. By an inexplicable fatality, that lodge had been neglected during the searches carried out of all the other lodges, around the lake and in the surrounding countryside. Well, Passepartout was there! And he was not alone!
An hour after the departure of the Patagonians and the white men, a shadow appeared, cautiously, at the window of the lodge and carefully scanned the horizon. The absolute and perfect silence of the plain appeared to reassure the individual completely. He stood up on the roof of the lodge and performed an entrechat.
Two seconds later, three women were beside him on the roof. They were the traitorous and perjured spouses Rising Moon, Aouda and Halpa-Talca!
Without wanting to offer the shadow of an excuse for Passepartout’s treason, we ought to say that the principle motive that had led him to abandon Phileas Fogg was the desire to avoid having to pay for the 17 gas-jets that had been burning for more than three years. After that came the prospect of actually founding a colony in Beavertown.
Ten years have gone by since then. The beaver republic is reconstituted. Beavertown has two populations, the beavers who returned to their lodges a long time ago and two dozen little brats living fraternally with the amphibians. They are Passepartout’s children.
The latter reigns as a true patriarch over the beavers, the children and Mesdames Aouda, Halpa-Talca and Rising Moon. A few Patagonians, stout fellows, gathered in a few beaver lodges serve the colony as servants. Passepartout, aided by the beavers, has erected an imposing lodge in the middle of the village. Always ambitious, he calls himself the Great Mogul of Beavertown.
VIII.
Shortly afterwards, shattering news was transmitted to the entire world by the transatlantic telegraph cables. The war in the Disunited States of Nicaragua, which had been thought to be well on the way to settlement, had flared up again more terribly than before. In Papagayo, the capital of south Nicaragua, the celebrated Phileas Fogg had hurried to offer his services, at the same time as the no-less-illustrious Farandoul, ex-conqueror of Australia, had presented himself in Cayman City, the capital of north Nicaragua and put his sword and his redoubtable experience at the disposition of the northists.53
The states of the north and south, badly damaged by the war—the north especially—threw themselves back into the conflict furiously. The city of Papagayo gave Phileas Fogg an enthusiastic welcome, and he was named General Chief Engineer of all the southist armies. All military power was concentrated in his hands, all the branches of government reorganized and combined under his direction. With the agreement of a committee of scientists operating under his presidency, he wanted to give the war a degree of scientific precision worthy of the century of progress in which we have the good fortune to live. His principal collaborator was a German scientist of the highest merit, the celebrated Doctor Fridolin Rosengarten.
The committee’s days and nights were so well employed that, three months after Sir Phileas’ arrival, the south felt that it was ready to resume hostilities. A formidable apparatus had been improvised; Sir Phileas wanted to inaugurate a new tactic of modern warfare: railway warfare!
The entire army was reorganized; there was no more infantry or cavalry, as in ancient Europe; every company had a road-ready locomotive with an armored and fortified train. Four hundred locomotives were prepared, with a much more considerable number of wagons. These locomotives were divided into three sections: light locomotives manned by machine-gunners; armored locomotives for charges; and locomotive batteries for the artillery.
One can imagine that all these preparations could not have been made secretly enough for the north to be unaware of the storm that was about to burst. On that side too, everything was ready to deliver terrible blows against the enemy.
As soon as he arrived in Cayman City, Farandoul had only had to say one thing, to make one proposition, for the rank of generalissimo to be offered to him by the northist parliament with an indescribable enthusiasm. Acclaimed by the population, carried in triumph by the army, he had immediately taken supreme power into his hands. Mandibul and his mariners entered the northist army with their Australian ranks; Bixby, also appointed as a general, became the soul of the councils of war; to him fell the mission of combating Sir Phileas Fogg’s committee of southist scientists.
The southists’ plan had been discovered at the very outset and, while bringing quite different projects to maturity, Farandoul had taken steps to meet the southist locomotives head on. Within two months, large factories, having been requisitioned, had constructed and armed 200 locomotives armored with steel plate 18 centimeters thick, equipped with large-caliber cannons and towing a bunker-wagon for the crew. A garrison of eight men was sufficient to man these redoubtable engines: two to steer and two to serve as lookouts while the other four enjoyed the rewards of sleep. Two little cabins w
ere reserved, one for the captain and one for the reporter. There were swarms of reporters in the army because, in addition to the countless local representatives they had come from all points of the globe; the general staff included our old friend Dick Broken of the New York Herald, as well as a French reporter sent by Le Figaro.54
There was a similar abundance of reporters on the southist side, including numerous female reporters sent by fashion magazines and gazettes created for the defense of women’s rights, attracted by Sir Phileas’ long-established reputation as a champion of womankind.
The opening of hostilities was imminent; the final preparations were being completed on both sides. At the same time as Sir Phileas announced the breaking of the armistice by telegram, Farandoul sent him an identical declaration by a diplomatic missive “to be delivered personally to the southist commander-in-chief”.
It was on a fine June night that 20 light locomotives of the advance guard left Papagayo, the southist capital, and set off northwards; by dawn, the entire army was on the move; the center, commanded by General Chief Engineer Fogg, was composed of 200 armored locomotives armed with 450 large-caliber cannons. This immense train, traveling on iron tracks in good repair, departed at full steam after the advance guard—which kept in touch with the main army by means of telegrams dispatched at regular intervals. On the flanks, the remainder of the southist forces, 500 light locomotives, advanced directly across terrain rendered practicable by its dryness.
At noon, a telegram from the advance guard signaled that the enemy was in sight.
Four armored locomotives, Farandoul’s advance guard, were blocking the way and directing heavy fire at the southists’ light locomotives. On an order from Phileas Fogg, the locomotives, stoked up to the maximum, leapt forward furiously. An hour later, the advance guard’s cannonade could be distinctly heard. The signal to clear the decks for combat was sounded on all the locomotives, and their speed increased.
It was time; the advance guard beat a retreat before the northists’ huge armored locomotives. At the sight of the southist army, the latter stopped and maintained their composure. A violent long-distance cannonade as exchanged for a quarter of an hour; then a charge of armored locomotives, vigorously led by Phileas himself, fell like a thunderbolt upon the four northists.
A whirlwind of smoke momentarily obscured the observers’ view of the combat; then they saw one of the northist locomotive lying on its side rendering up its last clouds of vapor, and the three others, more or less crippled, retreating along their tracks with their engines in reverse.
The track having been cleared and repaired that evening to give passage to the southists, a party of light locomotives raced forwards. The first success had gone to Phileas. A triumphant telegram was sent to Papagayo.
Early the following morning, full of confidence, the entire army set off at full steam. According to Phileas’ instructions, the advance guard was to move forward as far as possible, burning everything in its path. No telegram had arrived during the night; it was thought that the lack of news was solely due to a break in the wire, but 15 leagues on, a southist locomotive lying in pieces in a field gave rise to some anxiety. A little further on another was encountered, then the remainder of the advance guard, strewn across the plain in smoking fragments.
A terrible emotion gripped the throats of the entire army. Before continuing, Sir Phileas gave the order to rally the two flanks, which had fallen a little behind because of the difficulties of the terrain. There was no time to waste; thousands of strident whistle-blasts resounded in the distance. The din of 100 roaring locomotives was heard beyond the horizon, and suddenly, before the northist forces were even in sight, a hail of bombs and shells descended on Phileas Fogg’s army.
Sir Phileas’ locomotives immediately opened fire. The horizon darkened. The southist ranks were soon in disarray. In spite of Sir Phileas’ skillful maneuvering to get all his batteries lined up, a few charges of armored locomotives inflicted terrible carnage. At the same time, the northists effected maneuvers on both the right and left flanks designed to cut off the line of retreat. Phileas, with rage in his heart, gave a few orders; a division of armored locomotives was sacrificed to cover the retreat and, while it fought to the last shell, the general staff and the locomotives that could be saved rapidly beat a retreat.
Only 175 locomotives returned to Papagayo.
It was then that Fridolin Rosengarten’s genius revealed itself. That gentle and inoffensive man, that dreamer, that seeker of unknown flowers redoubled his efforts.
His first invention saved the southist capital. Papagayo, as everyone knows, is only approachable from one side; numerous forts line up in a dangerous pass defend it on the side of the sea; to the south, steep mountain slopes make the approaches easy to guard, but the great northern pain is its weak spot. Twenty-four hours after the return of Phileas’ damaged locomotives, the vulnerable zone became absolutely uncrossable, the worthy Fridolin having scattered thousands of tiny explosive and asphyxiating land-mines, of his own invention.
The efficacy of these land-mines did not remain in doubt for long. During the night, the southist forward positions heard the formidable rumble of Farandoul’s armored locomotives in the distance. The northist advance guard was approaching. Every one of its red signal-lights was like an eye floating towards Papagayo, and those eyes were visibly growing. Suddenly, series of little detonations burst forth in that direction; the northist locomotives, traveling at top speed, had just entered the minefield. The crepitation lasted five minutes, then died away entirely, along with the sound of the locomotives’ engines. The savant Fridolin Rosengarten, who had run to the forward positions with Phileas, immediately had an electric searchlight pointed in that direction. Twelve armored locomotives remained inert and motionless in the middle of the open country.
“Victory!” cried Fridolin. “My land-mines are devastating! If you’d care to come with me, General Fogg, to verify the merit of my ingenious invention, it’s easily done.”
Ten minutes later, Phileas and Fridolin headed towards the locomotives at the head of a little detachment of men, each clad in a sort of diving suit equipped with an air-tank. The Times correspondent accompanied the troop.
The greatest prudence was recommended during the march, for it was necessary to avoid the innumerable land-mines spread across the terrain. The scientist, armed with a lantern, lit the way. In this way, they arrived at the scene of the disaster.
The locomotives’ fires were beginning to go out. They made a prudent tour before going inside. The most complete silence reigned everywhere. The asphyxiating mines had done their work; everyone was dead!
The worthy Fridolin rubbed his hands together. The Times correspondent, desirous of familiarizing himself with every detail of Fridolin’s invention and getting a taste of the atmosphere, lifted his hood slightly. That imprudence nearly cost him dear; a sudden suffocation an a violent fit of sneezing almost threw him back into the scientist’s arms; it was necessary to hold him up to get him back to the forward positions—and yet the heroic correspondent still had the strength to gather up two or three land-mines without being seen, which he put in his pocket.
A veritable ovation was given to the worthy Fridolin on his arrival in Papagayo. The city was saved, for the moment.
Still sneezing, the Times correspondent, slipped away from the cheering crowds and went back home. The first thing he did was to put his land-mines into a little box and send them, with a long letter, to his newspaper.
Unfortunately, the box reached London before the letter. The correspondent having been unable to mention his package in his telegrams, which passed under Phileas’ inspection, the editor of the Times mistook the land-mines for hazelnuts and cracked one open with his teeth while opening his correspondence. A frightful detonation struck the editor down and broke all the windows in the neighborhood.
When, after two hours of aspersions of vinegar, it was possible to get into the street, there was nothing to b
e found but people lying on the pavements, sneezing and weeping. The land-mines, having gone stale during the journey, had lost part of their force; no one was dead—not even the editor of the Times, who got away with having to buy a set of false teeth55—but everyone within a 50-meter radius of the Times offices was obliged to stay in bed for a fortnight.
This mysterious event created a terrible fuss in Europe. The editor of the Times received his correspondent’s letter after coming back from the dentist’s. All was explained! Delighted to have such a precious correspondent, he informed him by telegram that his salary was being doubled.
Let us return to the southist city besieged by Farandoul. The northist locomotives having arrived in the vicinity of the minefield that morning, a reconnaissance that cost another four armored locomotives demonstrated the impossibility of approaching Papagayo. Farandoul contented himself with tightly blockading the city and, in consultation with Horatius Bixby, changed his batteries.
Let us leave them to meditate upon their plan of attack and see what Phileas was doing by way of defense.
Fridolin was indefatigable; every day saw a new invention hatch out. The most monstrous cannons and the most hectic and ingenious machine-guns emerged from his factories every evening. He was the first man in the civilized world to realize how to make a judicious employment of shells and machine-gun bullets.
An enormous cannon, as wide as a tower, served by a brigade of artillerists, caused the greatest possible havoc in the northist ranks. Minute by minute for a week, it sent forth 300-kilogram shells loaded with concentrated vervain,56 which asphyxiated every living being within 200 meters. The northists pulled back their lines, but in vain; the vervain-firing mortar advanced and continued its ravages. That sealed its doom. One morning, Bixby, who had sworn to destroy it, sent forth on his own behalf, with rare precision, a series of chloroform bombs.
The Adventures of Saturnin Farandoul Page 23